


When We Were Young

by Leif Writes (FrankensteinsMomster)



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Alcohol, College Malcolm goes to a Party, Eventual Brightwell, Gen, Malcolm goes to college and makes a friend, Medication and Alcohol don't mix, Vomiting, Waaaaay off in the distance there will be Brightwell, meet cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:47:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23124991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrankensteinsMomster/pseuds/Leif%20Writes
Summary: "Cool, cool, this is exactly how I wanted my weekend to start." She helped him stand and kept her arm around him. "So which one do you want to do first? Puke? Water?"OrMalcolm decides to go to a party on his first week away from home at College.
Kudos: 21





	When We Were Young

**Author's Note:**

> This is nothing like what I usually write but I wanted to write something with a lighter (for now) tone. This will be a series that I'll hopefully be updating twice a week! Enjoy!

Malcolm first met her when he was 19. He was at his first actual college party. It was everything he expected it to be. Loud and filled with obnoxious rich kids. But this was college he told himself, and he was there to learn and have new experiences away from his family. And if he didn't like it he could check it off his list, go home, get into his pajamas and never go to a college party again.

The first stupid decision he made was to have a beer. One beer wouldn't react to his medication too much he thought, plus it would give him something to do with his fidgeting hands. The second and third stupid decisions he made were to have another and then another after that. Three wasn't a very high number but when he attempted to stand up from his comfortable spot on the couch he promptly fell back down. A few people laughed, lightweight, but it didn't seem like anyone had really taken any notice. Except her. 

He hadn't noticed her walk up to him. He hadn't even realized she was talking to him until she kneeled in front of him, inches away from his face. 

"Hey, you alright," she asked. He blinked hard and tried his best to concentrate on her face. 

"I'm not drunk," he slurred. She rolled her eyes. 

"Whatever babyface, slow down on the drinking for a while maybe. You want water?" She stood up and started to walk away but he caught her arm. 

"I mean," he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to concentrate on his words, "I'm having a reaction. My medication. And the beer. Bad mix." 

"Shit, do you need to go to the hospital or something? They’re gonna start asking questions if I have to take another kid to the hospital this week." He shook his head no and regretted the movement instantly. 

"Water. Fresh air. I should probably vomit." 

"Cool, cool, this is exactly how I wanted my weekend to start." She helped him stand and kept her arm around him. "So which one do you want to do first? Puke? Water?" 

"The first one,” he mumbled and leaned heavily into her grasp. Together they stumbled out of the house and he gave her a confused look before she pointed at a bush. 

"Trust me, you do not want to go into those bathrooms. This is way more sanitary." 

He fumbled away from her grip and narrowly made it to his designated bush before vomiting. Sometime between his second and third wave of nausea she disappeared and he thought that was the last of the mystery woman he would see. He was thinking about calling a cab home when she returned to his side with an armful of water bottles. 

"Here," she opened a bottle and passed it to him, "to wash out your mouth." He gargled and spit before taking another bottle from her that he dumped over his head hoping it would help clear his hazy mind. It didn't. He took a third and took a sip. 

He took his first solid look at her. Her tawny brown skin slightly shimmering in the night and he wondered if he was actually that drunk or if it was something she was wearing. Her curly hair was kept in a short bob that framed her face. His gaze drifted to her full, glossed lips and he looked away, blushing. 

"So," she pressed her lips in a tight smile and nodded her head, "first party I'm guessing?" He let out a shaky laugh. 

"What? No, I do this all the time. It's a perfect way to meet girls. I lure them in with the pathetic act and then they're stuck with me," is what he wanted to say but what came out sounded more like, "What, no, it's perfect. You're stuck with me." She laughed this time, an honest, snorting laugh that made his heart flutter. 

"C'mon pretty boy. Let's get you home." She guided him to her car, struggled to get her keys out of her pocket (stupid. fucking. skinny jeans.) without letting him fall, helped him into the car, and buckled him up before getting in. 

A small voice in the back of Malcolm's head (that sounded surprisingly similar to Gil) told him that getting into the car with a stranger was a bad idea. But she seemed nice so far so he supposed he was safe. 

"I am nice," she replied. He looked at her confused, "you do realize you've been talking to yourself out loud this entire time, right." He did not. She laughed again and started the car. "So where to?" He opened his mouth to reply but nothing came out. Instead of his new address, all he could think of was his mother's address.

"I don't remember. I can't remember my address," the embarrassment of the night was finally catching up to him and he felt the telltale signs of tears forming in his eyes. "This was a fucking disaster." He leaned his head back against the headrest. He nearly leaped out of his seat when he felt her hand against his arm. 

"It's the college experience, man. We're all fucking disasters. Tonight was just your night to hold the idiot ball." 

He said nothing as she started to drive. The windows were rolled down and the cool night air against his face calmed him. She quietly sang along to the song on the radio. 

"He doesn't look a thing like Jesus  
but he talks like a gentleman  
Like you imagined when you were young"

He was unabashedly staring at her. She was beautiful and kind and he didn't quite know how to process it. At the moment he knew he was absolutely and completely in love with her. Which was stupid and so stereotypical that it made him laugh out loud. Of course, he would fall head over heels for the first person that was kind to him. A person he had only known for all of forty minutes. A person whose name he didn't even know. She pulled into the parking lot of a quiet-looking apartment complex. 

"I'm Malcolm by the way. Malcolm Whitly," he stretched a hand over the center console to her. 

"Rhea Angelos," she shook his hand, "would you like to spend the night? The couch is very comfy and the cats will only hate you if you snore." 

"Like the titan. Rhea, daughter of Gaia, mother of the Gods," he nodded happily, "I like couches."

"Okay rambly, let's get you to bed."


End file.
